FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

When you're a virgin, it feels like you're the only one in the room, even when you know you're not. The dark-colored wolf on the other end of the sofa, for instance, is clearly too awkward to have made it with anyone, and the otter in the corner is definitely too shy. Likewise is the red panda, who keeps looking at me, then at the half-open bedroom door, then back at me, looking for confirmation that what he thinks is happening is in fact happening.

So it's my first party with my new friends, the first college party I've actually enjoyed. I thought the Creative Writing Club would just be a venue to share my stories and get some advice; I wasn't expecting it to be such a social thing too. But I'm glad it is. I finally feel like I'm fitting in somewhere, even though I'm a freshman, even though I'm a new addition to this tight-knit group. I've been without this so long, I didn't know how much I needed it until now.

I'm talking to Anthony, a handsome coyote I kind of have a crush on. Okay, maybe it's a substantial crush. And maybe it's the first crush I've ever had on a guy and I'm refusing to acknowledge it. Yeah. Anyway, I do know I want to be his friend. I want to be around him, platonically of course, so I'm talking to him. And it's going great, actually. Anthony's a really good guy. When I showed up to the first club meeting, when I was too shy to initiate a conversation with anyone, he went out of his way to talk to me, and we hit it off. We talked about music, about cars, and of course, about writing.

I ask him where the good places here to see live music are, and he names a couple clubs. "But most of them are 21-and-up-only," he says. "So you pretty much have to stick to house shows until you turn 21. Or get a fake." He flashes a devious grin for an instant.

I laugh. "Do you have a fake I.D.?"

"I did, but I got busted for it last spring. And now it's only a few months until my birthday, so it's not really worth getting another." His blue eyes are so bright and full of life. You just want to stand there and listen to him talk. It's entrancing.

"Man," I say. "What do they do when they catch you with one of those? You didn't get arrested or anything, did you?" I hope I don't sound super naïve asking that.

"Nah, the cop was pretty chill. He just confiscated it and gave me a warning. Didn't even fine me. I think you can get arrested for it, but they usually don't."

"Ah."

"Do you want a fake? I know a guy who can probably get you one." Anthony is one of those people who knows everybody. And he doesn't just know who people are, he actually knows them. He's everybody's best friend. Part of me envies him for that.

"Nah, thanks though. I'd only ever use it to see music, and if there's a decent house show scene, I guess I'm good in that department."

"Not a big drinker, huh?"

"Not really," I say, raising my soda can.

"Well, I bet you've only been given pissy light beer and cheap liquor," he says, wrinkling his muzzle.

"Yeah, I guess that's true," I admit. "Everybody wants to give the freshmen the shitty booze, right?"

"Not us! Let me get you one of these," he says, gesturing with his bottle. It's some kind of craft beer I don't recognize.

"Maybe another time," I say.

"Okay," Anthony says, respectfully dropping the subject. "Anyway, if you want to see a good house show, you gotta check out the Trashcan. It's this house on Arbor Street. My ex-boyfriend and I saw The Bleeding Jeans there once."

I'm impressed by the relatively big-name band, but even more surprised by how casually Anthony mentions his ex-boyfriend. I mean, it's not like I didn't know he's gay. Hell, I'd say the club is at least two-thirds gay guys. And sometimes it still catches me off-guard when one of them somehow reminds me how non-heteronormative the group is, and how open about sexuality they are. I've even heard it mentioned that there is a subset of the Creative Writing Club that shares erotic stories. Increasingly, though, I'm feeling comfortable with it. Maybe even a little too comfortable. More than once I've had to stop myself from saying a certain thing or making a particular joke, either because people wouldn't get it, or because they might think I'm gay. And I don't want to give anyone the wrong idea.

"Wow, The Bleeding Jeans," I say. "They're kind of a big deal, aren't they? I didn't know they still played house shows."

"They probably don't anymore," Anthony says. "This was, like, last fall, so they've gotten a lot more famous since then. But you never know."

"That's part of why house shows are so cool, I guess," I say. "You might see somebody who winds up getting really big later."

"Exactly!" The coyote's ears perk up. "Hey, there's a show happening at the Treehouse tomorrow night. It's another DIY house. I don't remember who the bands playing are, but I'll give you a ride if you want to go."

"Yeah, sure! Sounds great. Speaking of that, actually, do you think you could give me a ride home tonight?" I ask.

"Oh yeah, of course," he says. "I'm not drinking too much tonight."

"Thanks."

"You just like riding in my Mustang, don't you?" He smirks. It's an '80-something Fox-body with the 5.0 and a five-speed. He's done some work on the motor too. When I first met him, I remembered all these details about his car before I could remember his name.

"I'll admit it's a perk of getting rides from you," I tell him.

Then Val comes in from the other room and says she has a headache and wants to go to bed early, and could we please keep the noise down a little bit or take the party downstairs. Downstairs is Tristan's place; the house is broken up into apartments, with David and Val renting the main floor and Tristan, also part of the club, living in the basement. I gather that's why the parties happen here.

Tristan gets everybody's attention and leads us down the stairs. The staircase ends at a short hallway with the living room at one end and Tristan's room at the other. I notice a peculiarity I assume must have arisen when this house was divvied up into apartments: Tristan's bedroom has no door. There's a door to the living room, and a door at the top of the stairs, but none separating the bedroom. But, I guess if he has the whole basement to himself, maybe it's not such a big problem.

"Alright, so I just got my new projector set up today," Tristan says. The fennec's tail swings back and forth behind him as he descends the stairs, impelled by his effeminate gait. "And I'm _dying_to test it out. So why don't we pick a movie?"

Nobody objects to that. While a few people swarm Tristan's shelf of DVDs, I claim a seat. I sit down on the couch against the side wall, at the end closer to the wall being used as a screen for the projector.

They settle on one of those hilariously bad, low-budget horror movies. It's a title I've heard of, but I've never seen it. As Tristan turns the lights off and starts up the projector, Anthony steps over and sits down next to me. My pulse quickens for an instant. Is he sitting a little closer to me than he needs to, or is it just me? I could easily stay where I am, close to the coyote, maybe even slide closer as the movie goes on, pretending I'm not doing it on purpose. But instead, I scoot up against the sofa's arm, and before long the film distracts me.

But sometime in the middle of it, Tristan comes back in from the kitchen. I hadn't noticed him leaving. The fennec pads over to the sofa and sits down next to Anthony. Actually, it might be more accurate to say he sits _on_Anthony. That's okay. There's room on the couch; they're not crowding me. They can do what they want. And I'm starting to get an idea of what exactly that is, even though I have to pretend not to notice.

Now they're really getting into each other. Not making out, but paws are wandering. Tails are swishing. I can only see so much out of the corner of my eye, and of course I can't turn and look at what's going on. I think I detect the telltale scent of arousal, but I'm not sure it's not just my mind playing tricks on me, filling in the blanks to create the most exciting version of the situation.

But there's nothing wrong with it. Two guys can cuddle during a movie. This wouldn't be weird if one of them were a girl, so it's not weird like it is. It's not like I've never seen a public display of affection before. Nope, it's just a slightly awkward moment, maybe something I'll tease them about later. That's all. And then they both get up and, I assume, go upstairs for something to drink, and once again I'm focused on the movie.

The movie ends, and David turns off the projector. "If anyone feels like they've drank too much to drive home, you can crash here," the wolf announces. "We have a couch upstairs that's available, and I think one of these down here pulls out into a bed."

Nobody takes him up on that offer, and everyone quickly dives into conversation. I talk to Sammy, the wolf sitting at the other end of the sofa, about the movie briefly. He's another freshman. In fact, he's the embodiment of the stereotypical freshman: nerdy, awkward, unstylish, and always wears his student ID on a lanyard.

The main conversation shifts to people who used to be in the club. I'm content to sit back and listen. Paul, a raccoon who graduated a few years ago and still works in town, is telling most of the stories because he remembers the former members best.

"...So Omar thought he had enough time to give Thom a blowjob in the car while Amanda went in and got the sandwiches. Of course, she comes back before they finish, but Omar doesn't stop," Paul relates. "The funny part is that Amanda just plays it cool, doesn't say anything. She just gets in the back and waits for them to finish, doesn't even say anything until they're done and Thom's zipping his pants back up. And then she just says, 'here's your sandwiches,' and acts like nothing even happened. But a few weeks later, we're at a writing meeting reading each other's stories, and she gives Omar a story she wrote, and about halfway through it, he realizes it's about him sucking off Thom in the car." Everyone laughs, including me. The raccoon looks at me and Sammy and says, "So for the new guys, the moral of the story is that anything you say or do in front of us can and will be used against you in a story."

Everybody laughs at that, and the discussion picks back up. I notice Ben, a brown rabbit, finish his beer and head for the stairs. He opens the door, then stops. The light in the bedroom is on. I can't see much inside, but Tristan and Anthony's voices are issuing from the hall.

Most of the room is still wrapped in conversation. Only Will, the red panda, and I aren't talking. Only we hear the raised voices in the bedroom as the hare stands in the hall for a moment, ears standing straight up, then walks past the stairs and into Tristan's room, leaving the door ajar behind him.

Will looks at me, his face asking if I'm seeing the same thing he's seeing. I cock my head at him and smirk. I glance over at Sammy, but he seems oblivious. I don't say anything to him about it.

I shift myself in my seat as I feel a familiar tingle in my sheath. I'm not really getting hard, just a little excited. And I can't say for sure what it means, if it's just a response to the general thought of sex, or something more specific. I don't even know for sure what Tristan and Anthony were doing, I tell myself. They could have just been in there talking. Yeah. And that would explain the commotion in the bedroom when Ben opened the door.

I'm pretending to listen as Paul tells another story about someone I don't know, wondering what was actually happening in Tristan's room, and why Ben had gone in. I can't smell anything that would give it away; there are too many other people in the room between here and there. Ears perked, listening in vain for any intelligible words from the bedroom, I diligently keep an eye on the half-open door to the hall, now and again exchanging glances with the red panda.

Five minutes pass, then ten, then half an hour. No one comes out of the bedroom, and I don't hear any loud noises in there either. I try to get it out of my mind, tell myself it's not worth thinking about, but I can't quite do it. Gradually the conversation settles down. Paul points out that it's close to one in the morning, and decides to go.

"Yeah, I think I'm gonna get going too." Will stands up as Paul exits through the exterior door, which leads straight out to the driveway. The red panda heads for the stairs, and I get up and follow him. This way, anything I might walk in on, he will have walked in on ahead of me.

I follow Will's banded tail into the hall. As soon as I'm through the door, the foot of Tristan's bed comes into view, and there are clearly four paws under the covers. Then the unmistakable smell hits my nose. My heart jumps. Ben is still in the bedroom too, casually leaning against the dresser and carrying on a conversation with the two in the bed. The situation is surreal to me. So much of this goes against all the social protocol I know. But then again, I know instantly how it all happened. I can easily imagine the flirtatious fennec taking Anthony to bed. And when Ben walks in on them, of course the coyote would play it off; that's just how he is. "Oh no, it's alright," he'd say, rolling off the naked fennec. "No, no, you can totally stay and talk. In fact, it would be weirder if you didn't!"

Will briefly stops to thank Tristan for hosting. I consider asking the red panda for a ride, but before I have a chance he's up the stairs and out of sight.

"Hey Jack, is that you?" Anthony's voice almost makes me jump.

He can't possibly see me; I can only see his feet. And how he can smell anything in this room is beyond me. "Yeah," I say, taking a step into the bedroom. Now I get the final confirmation: Anthony and Tristan's shirtless bodies side-by-side in the bed, covered up to their stomachs by the blanket.

"Are you ready to go? Did you still want that ride?" the coyote asks cheerfully.

"Uh, that's alright," I say. "I can just walk, if you-"

"Oh, don't be silly, I'll give you a ride," Anthony insists. As soon as the coyote and I are talking, Ben exits up the stairs. He looks like he's been wanting to leave the room for a while. He looks about how I feel. Tristan, meanwhile, looks more amused than uncomfortable.

"Um, okay, sure," I acquiesce. It would be weirder to refuse.

Before I can even turn away, the coyote jumps out of the bed. My reaction to retreat up the stairs for the sake of Anthony's modesty is tempered by shock, and the curiosity I don't even want to acknowledge. As I expected, he's completely naked. My eyes land on his groin. There's still a small amount of pink sticking out of his exposed sheath, but I turn my back before I get a good look.

"You're not going anywhere, are you?" Anthony calls to me.

"Oh, no, I'm just... giving you a little privacy."

"Don't worry about that," he says. "You have a good time tonight?"

"Yeah, I did." I tentatively step back down into the bedroom. By the time I do, the coyote already has his underwear back on. It's a pair of boxer briefs that don't leave much to the imagination, not a huge improvement over nudity. "Thanks for hosting, Tristan."

"No problem, glad you enjoyed it," the fennec says. I swear he smirks for an instant, as if he's entertained by my discomfort. I wouldn't put it past him.

"Yeah, we're happy you could make it," Anthony says, pulling up his jeans. "How did the movie end?"

"They all got killed," I say, trying to make eye contact and pretend nothing unusual is happening. "The final scene was another car driving up to the cabin."

Anthony laughs, pulling a t-shirt over his head. "I knew it!" he says. "God, that movie's like a parody of itself."

"Yeah, it was really bad. But, like, in a good way."

"I've seen that movie so many times," Tristan says. "It's actually really useful as a guide for how not to write a script. And it's funny."

"I love terrible movies like that," Anthony says. "I'll have to watch the rest of it some time. You ready?"

"Yeah," I say.

I follow the coyote out to his car and get in the passenger side. I smile when he turns the key. It's not obnoxiously loud, but it sounds nice. I can tell it's not just a noisy exhaust.

"Which dorm do you live in?" Anthony asks as we pull out of the driveway.

"West Turner. There's no road right to it, so you can just drop me off on Lee Street."

"Okay, sure," he says.

We drive in silence for a little while. I want to talk about what happened at the party, but at the same time I want to forget about it. I want him to tell me that he and Tristan weren't actually doing anything, and that there was some other reason that they were naked in bed together, but I know if I ask, that's not what he's going to tell me. We drive through town, past the bars full of students drinking and trying to get laid. Normal people doing normal things. Yeah, sex is normal. Two young people hooking up, that's normal. It would almost be weirder if Anthony and Tristan didn't have sex, right? So why does thinking about it feel so weird?

"Penny for your thoughts," Anthony says after a while.

"Oh, nothing." I try to sound convincing.

He's quiet for a moment, then says, "If you're wondering, yeah, Ben did walk in on me and Tristan."

"I figured," I say nonchalantly.

"We're not together or anything," he continues, "It was just a spur-of-the-moment thing, I guess."

"Yeah, I saw Tristan come over and sit on you," I say.

Anthony laughs. "I was not expecting him to do that," he admits. "But you know, he's cute, so I was kinda like, why not?"

"He can be so flirtatious," I say, "I couldn't tell at first if it was just Tristan being Tristan."

"I know what you mean," the coyote says, laughing again. "You should see him when he's really drunk. He gets so slutty, he's all over everybody."

"I can imagine that."

At a red light, Tristan looks over at me. "I'm sorry if that was awkward for you, seeing that."

"It was, but it's alright."

"Probably wasn't the best idea to do that in the bedroom with no door, right?" he smiles.

I smile back. "Maybe not."

The light turns green, and Anthony pulls away slowly, being gentle on the noise pedal. We get past the downtown strip and turn towards campus. I don't have anything else to say about the incident. I still feel weird about it, but there's nothing Anthony can tell me that will make me feel better. He's not the problem.

"I apologize if this is out of place, but," Anthony says. He's mostly looking at the road, but I can see concern in his eyes when they flick over to me. "Are you gay?"

I'm caught off-guard by that. "I, uh," I stutter.

"Hey, don't worry about it," the coyote cuts me off.

"No, no, it's alright," I say. "I... I don't know. Maybe. I don't know." My leg is shaking.

"Questioning things lately?"

"Yeah."

Anthony glances over at me. "Been there, man," he says. There's sympathy in his voice. "Don't worry, it gets better. You'll figure yourself out." He puts his paw on my leg, just above the knee, but soon removes it to change gear and doesn't put it back.

"Thanks." I feel a little better. I want Anthony to touch me again. That brief, chaste pat on my leg was more reassuring than everything he said. I'm realizing how short on physical contact I've been lately. Hell, it's been my whole life, come to think of it. I want that comfort, I need that assurance that I'm not alone, that I'm not the only one who's ever felt this way. But I can't just ask him to do that.

"Yeah, I was in your shoes last year, when I was a freshman," he tells me. "I thought I was straight all through high school, had a couple girlfriends. And it was alright, but it didn't, like, click. You know, I asked out girls because that's what you do. And then I got away from home, got here, and it was like, okay, being gay is a thing. I'd never, like, seen that as a possibility before. And the rest is history." He looks at me again and smiles.

"When did you know?" I ask.

"Know what?"

"That you... weren't straight?" I don't want to say the word "gay." I can't bring myself to do it.

"Well, I probably knew I wasn't straight while I was still in high school, dating girls." The coyote lifts one paw off the wheel in a quick gesture. He sounds as confident as always, but his ears and whiskers don't back up his voice. I don't think he talks about this often. "I just knew I wasn't really into girls, I guess. Like, I dated a couple, and I really liked them, but just as people, you know? My friends would say things like, 'Oh, your girlfriend's so hot! Her tits are amazing! I'd fuck her in half if I were you!' But I just didn't see it. And the sex was... well, it just kind of was. I remember I couldn't jerk off thinking about girls anymore. I'd just kind of think about nothing." His face lightens for a second. "Sorry if that was too much information."

I just try to laugh it off.

We're coming onto campus. The lit paths, familiar architecture, familiar landmarks. I'm settling in here, getting more comfortable day by day, but it still doesn't feel like home. I still miss the place I grew up, my family and old friends, even though all I really miss is the familiarity. I felt comfortable there in a way I just don't yet here.

"Now if you want to know when I knew I was gay," Anthony continues, "that wasn't until I'd, you know, played around with guys a little bit. And I found out I liked it a lot better." He grins deviously, but then sees me looking uneasy again. The smile instantly fades. "Again, I'm sorry if this is too much, but have you ever been with anybody?"

"No," I say. I can't lie about it. I know I couldn't keep that lie up for long.

"That's nothing to be ashamed of," the coyote says. And I know he's right. But admitting it, especially to him, makes me feel so vulnerable. He continues, "But getting some experience really does help."

"Yeah," I sigh. "I bet it does." I want some experience. I want to know what sex is like. And I want Anthony to show me. My heart starts pounding again as we approach my street, hoping beyond reason that he'll keep going past it and take me home with him.

But we turn onto Lee Street, towards my dorm. I exhale. There's a twinge of disappointment, but mostly I'm relieved. In a few minutes, I'll be back in my room, back in my comfort zone, and I won't have to think about sex, or Anthony, or sex with Anthony, or anything.

Anthony pulls up to the curb in front of another dorm and stops the car. It's a short walk across the quad to my building. But as I'm reaching for the door handle, the coyote says, "Hey, Jack."

I freeze, paw on the handle, and look at him. His face is warm and friendly, as always. "Yeah?" I say.

The coyote's triangular ears are twitching as he says, "If you want to get some experience, I can help you with that."

My voice catches in my throat. I'm sure I look like a deer in headlights. "You mean, like, now, tonight?" That tingle in my sheath is back.

"Whenever," he says. "If you want to tonight, we can go to my place right now." His voice goes low and sexy at the end of the sentence.

"O-okay, yeah," I croak. "I'd like that."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." My paw falls from the door handle.

"Alright, then." Anthony puts the car in gear and we pull away from the curb. Instantly I'm flooded with apprehension and anxiety. I panic for a second. This is going way out of my comfort zone. It's not just that I've never had sex with someone; I've never seriously dated anyone, I've never gone home with someone like this, and so much more. All the surrounding things are almost as intimidating as the looming specter of sex. And when did I ever think I'd be doing this with a guy?

But then I look at the coyote, and I remember why I'm doing this. I want to see him naked again. I want him to touch me again. I'm still nervous, but it's mostly excitement driving my racing pulse now. Anthony won't let me regret this. He cares, and I trust him.

"You know, Tristan and I didn't get to finish earlier," he jovially says as the Mustang rumbles off. "So maybe this'll be better than just going home and jerking off."

I force a timid chuckle. "I hope so."

Anthony laughs. "Don't worry, man. It'll be fun." He lays his paw back on my thigh, a little farther up this time. It might be unintentional, or maybe he's being deliberately more intimate. I hope it's the latter, but it feels nice either way. I rest my paw on top of his. Interlacing our fingers might be too much right now. "I gotta shift gear," he says, pulling away.

"Oh, yeah. Right." I release his paw. "Sorry."

"It's okay," he assures me. "You're really nervous, aren't you?"

"Can you tell?" I ask facetiously.

"It's alright to be nervous." His voice is gentle and calming. It's what I need right now. "I sure was my first time. And then again my first time with a guy!"

I take a deep breath, then another. I should have a boner by now, shouldn't I? If I'm really attracted to this coyote, and I know I'm on my way to have sex with him, shouldn't my cock be reacting? Will I be able to get it up when I need to? I know I need to calm down, but my stomach feels full of butterflies to the point of bursting.

"Could you tell I was a virgin?" I ask.

"What do you mean?"

"I dunno. Like, could you tell I'd never had sex before?"

"Pssht," Anthony says dismissively. "Dude, it's not like I go around trying to guess everybody's sexual history. Honestly, I didn't even think about how much sex you've had until just tonight."

"Really?"

"Yeah. That's just not something people really think about. I think the only people who think too much about that are people who are insecure about it." I look down at my feet. He's right. But then he says, "But I think it's kind of cute that you've never done it before."

"Wait, seriously?" I'm incredulous.

"It's not just that," he says. "You're a cute fox all the way around. Hell, if I'd known, I might've tried to make a move on you."

"Wow," I breathe. This doesn't feel real. I feel like I'm floating, watching myself in a fantasy I hadn't even allowed myself to have. Anthony is good-looking; I've always thought that, but I wasn't always attracted to him like this, was I? Fuck, maybe I was. Even in my unsettled state of mind, going zero-to-gay like that seems awfully implausible.

"What?"

"I," I say, "I think you're really cute too."

"Thanks." He smiles.

The drive to Anthony's apartment only takes a few minutes. It's one of the nicer complexes town, mainly intended for students.

"Now the million-dollar question," he says as he leads me up two flights of outdoor stairs, "Are any of my roommates home?" He slips the key into the lock and twists the knob. The door opens to a dark interior. Sniffing the air for confirmation, he declares, "Looks like we've got the place to ourselves." He flicks on the light switch and the fixtures on the vaulted, top-floor ceiling illuminate a clean living room with a new-looking sofa and chair facing the TV on the wall. Anthony steps towards the kitchen, asking, "Do you want something to drink?"

"I'm fine," I tell him.

"We don't have to get to it right away if you don't want," he says. "If you're nervous, it might help to take it easy for a little while first. Want to put on some TV or a movie, or some music?"

"Music's good." I follow the coyote to the sofa and sit down on my tail. Luckily he doesn't notice; he's too busy turning on the stereo.

"Hm, let's see here..." Anthony mumbles, plugging his phone into the jack and scrolling through it. I shift myself to free my tail. Music starts playing. I'm pleasantly surprised that it's nothing overly sappy and romantic; it's some indie rock I don't think I've heard before. "I've been listening to this album a lot lately," he says.

The song is pretty straightforward rock and roll, but with a fluid, melodic bent. It's easy to listen to, but not boring. "I like it," I smile. "Kinda reminds me of R.E.M."

"Yeah, the singer's voice is similar. I actually think he's more expressive than Michael Stipe."

We keep talking about the music, and it's almost like we're just friends again. I'm describing what I like about the guitarist's style, and I'm looking down Anthony's muzzle into his shining eyes, and I'm completely in the moment. He was right, this is helping.

A few songs in, and we're not talking about the music anymore. We're talking about each other, about ourselves, our lives and stories. When I speak, Anthony's ears follow me with earnest interest. His jaw hangs open in a cute, goofy grin, letting the tip of his tongue poke out. I like his face. I like the way he listens to me. I like how excited he gets when he thinks of something to say. I like him.

"Yeah, a few of my high school friends I'm still in touch with. You know, we see each other on breaks and hang out," Anthony relates.

"I haven't talked to my high school friends as much as I'd like to," I tell him. The truth is that I don't think I have any old friends close enough for me to reach out to without pretense. "But you know, that's why I'm glad I'm meeting people like you here."

Anthony doesn't say anything right away. The music, which I haven't paid attention to for a while, is still the same band, but this song is different from the previous ones. It's slower but not delicate, and pretty in a rough-around-the-edges kind of way, the type of song not everyone can appreciate. But it's beautiful to me. I know what's coming next.

Anthony reaches over and takes my black-gloved paw in his tan one. My heart is in my throat, but I'm not pulling away from him. No way. The way he's looking at me over his straight muzzle, ears tilted questioningly, is reassuring. His friendly, sympathetic eyes are full of not quite love, but definitely affection. I squeeze his paw and smile.

He leans in closer to me, wrapping his other arm around me. His snout is moving towards my face. He's going to kiss me. We're going to kiss. I've never done that before. But now it's happening, and I have no idea how this works. I don't know what to do, so I don't really do anything; I just let him kiss me. And it feels good. But before I get my bearings in the kiss, Anthony pulls away.

"Is this alright?" he asks softly.

"Y-yeah," I whisper. "It's just... I've never really kissed anyone before."

"Well, now you have." He kisses me again, and this time, I kiss back. I know I'm probably clumsy at it, but I try to push through my nerves and lack of confidence. I feel his paw on the back of my neck, his claws behind my flat-lying ears.

I lose track of time as we make out on the couch. The coyote leads me, guides me through everything. I didn't expect this at all. I had no idea kissing someone would be like this. Our paws are all over each other. He's really taking care of me. I get the feeling he's trying his best to make this special for me. And it's working beautifully.

"You want to keep going?" Anthony asks, breaking the kiss.

"Yeah, I do."

"Are you sure?" He touches a paw to my cheek. "Because I can take you home if you want."

"I'm sure," I affirm. "I want to do this."

The coyote smiles. "Well then, let's get somewhere more comfortable," he says, rising from the sofa. I stand up too, and finally notice that I'm completely hard. I try to look without looking to see if Anthony is too. I can't see, but I think I can smell his arousal. With a paw on my back, he leads me to his room. By the time we reach the door, the paw is on my ass. I pretend I don't notice, but the attention feels good.

Anthony's bedroom is clean but not rigorously organized, and smells strongly of coyote. I've been around plenty of coyotes, and I know that scent, but now it's so much more exciting than before. It's not just the prominent edge of arousal either; Anthony's own smell is driving me crazy. I want to bury my snout in him and breathe him in.

"You're still okay?" he asks, taking hold of my shirt.

"I'm better than okay."

"Ooh, that's what I like to hear." The coyote pulls my shirt up and helps me wiggle out of it. "And that's what I like to see."

My cheeks flush. I've never considered myself that attractive. I don't have an ounce of fat on me, but hardly any muscle either. Wiry and narrow-shouldered, I still feel very much like an awkward teenager. "Do I get to see you too?"

"No, I'm gonna keep my shirt on the whole time." He's already taking off his own shirt as he says it. Now I get a chance to really look at him, rather than just stealing curious glances like at Tristan's. His coat is a beautiful patchwork of gray and brown and orange and white. He's better-built than I am, but no gym rat. I've seen my share of shirtless guys and felt nothing, but this is different. I let out a low murmur of excitement. "You want to see more?" he asks.

"Uh-huh." I'm mesmerized as he undoes his belt and zipper, then steps out of his pants and underwear in one fluid motion. His sheath looks full and heavy, with the tip of his cock poking out, pink and glistening.

Anthony bends toward my waist, tail curled behind him, and reaches for the button on my pants. "May I?" he coos.

"G-Go for it," I whisper. He unfastens my pants with practiced ease, revealing a wet stain on my boxers. He gently pulls those down too, and my own manhood is uncovered. I feel small in comparison, but Anthony nonetheless eyes my crotch with satisfaction.

"Sit down," he suggests, indicating the bed. Pants around my ankles, I oblige. He sits next to me and puts an arm around my shoulders.

"What are we gonna... do?" I ask shyly.

"Let's keep it simple this time," he replies. "I was thinking paw stuff would be a good place to start, maybe mouth stuff."

I'm relieved when he doesn't follow that up with "butt stuff." "Okay," I say.

"You ready?"

"Yeah. As ready as I'm gonna be." I can really smell his musk from here. I would've called it unpleasant even a day ago, but not now. It's making me light-headed. Or maybe it's not only his intoxicating scent; maybe it's just... everything.

"Awesome." The coyote's paw is immediately on my cock, working my sheath back.

I let out a yelp, which even surprises me. I don't make a lot of noise when I jerk off, but the unfamiliar touch is thrilling.

I must be showing my embarrassment at the noise I made, because Anthony laughs playfully. That doesn't help. "That good?"

"Y-yeah" is all I can think to say.

"Mm, good." He draws out the word as he leans against me and begins stroking my shaft.

His soft pads are electric. I didn't know it could be so different being touched by someone else. I stifle the sounds that try to force their way through my muzzle, but I this kind of stimulation is too much; I need to do something, and I find myself squirming against the coyote.

My eyes close, and I nuzzle my cheek against Anthony's shoulder. He's so soft. I'm lost in his softness, his scent, and the pleasure. This is amazing. I'm so lost, so clueless, but I've got a beautiful coyote to teach me.

I'm making noises again, whining and rubbing my body on his. Anthony guides our muzzles together and swallows my whimpers in a kiss. Good, now I have something to concentrate on.

But within a minute, I'm about to cum. I can't let that happen; I'd be ashamed to finish so quickly. I try to focus on holding back, but it's no use. When I'm doing this to myself, I'm usually just trying to get to that point, and when I want to hold off an orgasm, I can simply leave my dick alone for a moment. But Anthony's going to make me cum any second, and no amount of willpower can stop that.

So I pull away and break the kiss, panting, "Wait, wait, I'm gonna..."

"You okay?" The coyote's paw goes still on my cock, just in time.

I need to take a second before responding, "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I just... I just don't want to, I just don't want to cum yet. Sorry."

"Haha, a little worked up, are we?"

His playful teasing lays my ears flat, but it's less embarrassing than it could've been. "I guess so," I admit. My eyes gravitate to the coyote's groin, where I think I can see his knot starting to swell, still inside his sheath. I never thought I'd want to touch someone's dick so badly. "I want to try doing that for you."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," I tell him. "I really want to."

"Well, I'm not gonna stop you."

And with that, my paw starts towards Anthony's crotch, hesitating once or twice before making contact. Finally I take a breath and do it. The pink flesh is hot and slick with precum. I get a rush just feeling the coyote's erection, and another when it pulses in my paw and Anthony emits a pleasure-filled hum.

Taking it upon myself to first of all get him fully exposed, I try pushing his sheath back. But his knot has already grown enough to make it difficult. If it were my own cock, I'd have myself free in no time, but I feel so clumsy and unpracticed as I try to slip the coyote's sheath over his knot.

Anthony's about to say something, probably to offer help, when his knot finally slides free. "Ooh, good job," he congratulates me, a little too patronizingly, but I won't complain.

I start jerking him off as I would myself. I'm glad we're both canids; I wouldn't even know where to start with anything else. He's a coyote and I'm a fox, so our anatomies are broadly similar, though not identical. I'm fascinated by the slight variances, much more than I thought I would be. And the idea that exploring these differences, feeling all over him, stroking my pads on his warm, red flesh is giving him pleasure is really, really hot.

Anthony lets me know when something I do is working. I'm sure the little hums and grunts and squeaks are exaggerated, mostly just to encourage me, but I try not to think about that and take them at face value. He has a paw on my bare thigh, fingers creeping inward toward my groin, claws digging in and stopping just short of hurting me as his cock twitches in my paw.

I cup his balls in my other paw. They look so fluffy and soft. And they feel that way too, but warm and heavy as well. The coyote almost purrs as I clumsily fondle his sac. I don't think I've ever heard that noise before, but it's definitely one of pleasure.

Anthony growls, and then his cock pulsates in my paw as he starts ejaculating. I reflexively look up at his face to see his mouth cracked open as he pulls ragged breaths through his black nose. We lock eyes, but I look away when it registers that he's actually cumming. I quickly return focus to his crotch, and aim his spasming member so that his semen lands on his own stomach and not the bed or the floor. After the surprise, and then the erotic satisfaction, I'm overcome with pride and relief. There, I got him off. I did it; I didn't fail him. Hopefully I was better than just jerking off after all.

"That was good," he says, regaining breath. "I would've warned you, but I wanted to see the look on your face," he says with a goofy grin.

"Thanks," I say. "Did I look surprised or something?"

"Yeah. It was super cute." He pecks me on the cheek, and I feel myself flushing. Anthony takes a washcloth off the foot of his bed and wipes as much cum as he can out of his reddish-brown stomach fur.

"Ew, you just leave that out like that?"

"What, this?" Anthony says, raising the small towel. "I dunno, I guess if I'm bringing someone into my bedroom, we probably have the kind of relationship where seeing my cum rag wouldn't put them off too much."

I giggle at the phrase, "cum rag."

"Hey, let's try something."

"W-what?" I ask, suddenly nervous again.

The coyote drops the rag on the bed and kneels down in front of me. Oh, that. "This," he says. He puts a paw near the base of my shaft to steady it, then begins lapping at my cock with his tongue. A few quick licks, and then he slows down, dragging his tongue along my length. The feeling is incredible.

He pauses and looks up at me. "Why don't you lay back?" he suggests.

I do, and then I feel wet warmth engulf my cock. It's better than anything I've ever felt, having my whole shaft down to my knot surrounded by organic heat, and his tongue writhing along the underside. I feel his lips bump up against my knot, and his paw intermittently squeezing behind it.

I don't say anything when I'm about to cum. I don't think I could. But I probably warn him inadvertently with my loudening panting and whining. I'm not used to making noise like this, but it just feels too good and something's got to give. And then something does give, and I cum hard into his muzzle. My whole body goes tense, and I'm struggling to keep breathing. I don't know what I expected from my first blowjob, but I don't think it was quite this.

I must be taking a while to collect myself, because Anthony says, "You good, Jack?"

"Yeah," I pant. "Yeah, I'm good. Better than good, actually. That was," I push myself upright again. "That was amazing."

"Was it everything you hoped it would be?" The coyote sits back up on the bed beside me.

"Uh, yeah. I mean, I didn't really know what to hope for, but, I mean, that was a lot of fun."

"I'm glad." He puts an arm around me.

After a second or two, I reciprocate, and we stay like that for a while. There's so much going on in my mind, but nothing I want to say. This is somewhere I never thought I'd be, something I never thought I'd do, and that's hard for me to think about. I had such a good idea of who I was, and I liked that person. And I know it's silly to think this changes me that much, but it feels like a really big deal.

Anthony finally breaks the cuddly silence. "It's pretty late. Do you want to just stay here tonight? Or I could drive you back if you want."

I hesitate, wondering if I should say what I want to say. It would be so easy to just go back to my dorm, to go back and let everything sink in. "I can stay here, if it's alright."

"Cool!" I feel the coyote's tail swish against me. And I know no matter what happens next, I'll have to write a story about this someday.